The Desperate Kingdom of Love
by Spike Speigel1
Summary: Grissom’s thoughts concerning Sara. GSR.


Title: The Desperate Kingdom of Love

Author: Spike Speigel

E-mail:

Rating: PG-13

Classification: Grissom/Sara

Disclaimer: As usual, these characters don't belong to me. Just taking them for a joyride.

Spoilers: Everything before Viva Las Vegas.

Summary: Grissom's thoughts concerning Sara.

Status: Finished

* * *

I stand at my office door, handing out assignments as per my position. However, nobody notices as I glance at her while I talk. In retrospect, I think everyone was still focused on Nick's new haircut. Poor boy. Why in the world would he want to mimic a skinhead, I'll never know? Eventually, everyone leaves, Sara remaining. She looks up, tells me that she wants to talk to me about something. I ask her how her meeting went with her PEAP rep. She responds that things are going well, cutting that portion of the conversation short. It's clear that she wants to talk about something else.

I listen intently, somewhat concerned about what's about to emerge from her lips. After all, the last time I've talked to her was before she left on her so-called vacation. She's had time to think. Actually, we both have. The only problem is, I haven't. Instead, I've just continued on with the job. Part of me wants to say it's because there was work that needed to be done. But that other part, the part that whispers to me every once in a while, tells me that I'm afraid to face the truth. Apparently, I know the answer. Now, if I only knew the question.

Sara's lips part, semblance of a word beginning to float on the air. However, the word dies there, the sound of broken glassware interrupting. We both look toward the adjacent lab to see Greg's new replacement fumbling around, Greg trying to apologize as best he can, an apologetic smirk on his face. I sigh discontentedly, focusing my attention back on Sara. Unfortunately, she no longer wishes to talk, instead telling me that we can talk later. She walks away from me, leaving me with a feeling of uncertainty.

I think of Sara. I'm as confused as ever.

* * *

I hear about Sara's reluctance to leave evidence behind even though said evidence was in the proximity of numerous pipe bombs. Warrick tells me that even though he tried to get her out of the house, Sara was adamant to retrieve the blood spackled door. I wonder to myself, if it had been me, would I have done the same thing?

Sara's processing the door when I come in to check the progress of my fetal pig's decomposition. I try to be as casual as possible when I bring up the incident. Unfortunately, Sara sees through my charade, answering bluntly that she doesn't have a death wish. No, she's not on the bottle. She was just doing her job, just as any other CSI would have, given the situation. I wonder. She tells me not to worry about her well-being. She's doing okay, given everything that's happened to her in these past few months. I tell her that I'm not worried. I'm concerned. She smiles at my choice of words, asking me to distinguish the difference between the two. I don't answer. Instead, I check on the status of my fetal pig, the pungent aroma bringing us to near nausea. Sara turns back to the door, never noticing me as I look at her intently.

I think of Sara. I wish I had an answer for her.

* * *

Sara looks at me, somewhat dumbfounded, when I mention that the Bradys have a happy relationship. Surely, Gil Grissom doesn't look upon swinging in a positive light. Then again, who am I to extol the virtues of happiness when I've been anything but? Sure, I've been content with my life. Satisfied, even. But, happy? To tell the truth, I can't recall ever being happy. Maybe when I learned sign language so I could communicate with my mother. Maybe when I retained the use of my hearing. But they're just maybes. I don't have a definite. I don't think I ever have.

Sara's still waiting for an answer. I fiddle with my cup, looking at her. I try for an answer, but my cell phone rings. I don't know whether I'm disappointed or grateful for the interruption as I cease the shrill tone by answering the phone. Nevertheless, I'm off the hook. I inform Sara of Hodges' findings, Sara nodding intently. She takes my cup as she rises from the bench. As she walks to the trash receptacle, I look upon her, still pondering her question.

I think of Sara. I still don't have any answers for her.

* * *

I'm holding the glued together bowtie in my hands when Sara walks into my office. She hasn't been around lately. She's had to take a few personal days. For whatever reason, I'm not privy to. I don't push her on the issue, instead allowing her time off for whatever she needs. So, I'm surprised to see her standing in my doorway, a look of preoccupation on her face. She's just stopped by the lab to retrieve some contents from her locker before heading home. I ask her if she's okay, Sara nodding slightly even though I can tell that she's not. I try to push the issue, but we're interrupted when Sofia walks by my office.

She's seen the bowtie, a small smile on her face. Sofia makes a playful comment about offering assistance with any neckties I might have, just in case I find them troublesome as well. She never notices Sara as she walks away, leaving me in an awkward situation. Sara's mouth opens slightly before closing once again. Her brow is furrowed, as though she's trying to comprehend what's just happened. I try to explain to her that it was all very innocent. Friendly even.

Unfortunately for me, Sara doesn't seem to care one way or the other, the look of resignation becoming more pronounced. She doesn't look at me as she talks, instead looking at her feet. She tells me that she won't be back on the clock until next week. She still has things that she has to attend to. She's just stopped by to see how I was doing. I try to speak, but she's already gone. I sigh softly, tossing the bowtie onto my desk.

I think of Sara. I wonder if I've just ruined our friendship once more.

* * *

It's been months since things have been right between Sara and myself. Every time I try and reach out to her, she pushes me away. I'm not sure if it's because she wants to be alone, if she doesn't want my company, or a bit of both. Nonetheless, these past few months have been hell for me. Even though she's here physically, we no longer share the rapport we once had earlier in the year. Now, the only time we talk is when I give her an assignment slip, ask her about a case she's working, or if we're working a case together. The last is usually the most awkward, but I yearn for these moments in the hope that I can make things right between us once more.

We're in a darkened alleyway, the victim lying prone in a puddle of blood, two gunshot wounds to the back of the head. I can tell it's a professional job even before examining the cranium more closely. Brass remains at the entrance to the alley, Sara working quietly. She quickly snaps a few cursory shots of the body, never looking at me as she continues to process. I've had enough. I finally work up the nerve to ask her about our current situation. She affirms that there's no situation. She's just doing the job. She's trying to be a professional. She rises from the body, moving to a different position to get some surrounding shots.

I walk up to her, our faces close enough that I know she's currently working a cough drop in her mouth. My mind quickly flashes to her drinking, but I push the thought away. She's said that she doesn't have a drinking problem. And I believe her. Sara finally looks at me for the first time tonight, frustration in her voice. She asks me what I want. I don't realize that I've answered her until it's too late. I tell her the truth. I tell her that I want her.

Our eyes remain locked, neither sure about what to say at this point. I can see the conflict in her eyes as she tries to comprehend my words. I don't blame her since I'm still wondering if those words truly came from me as well. Unfortunately, we never get the chance to figure it out. The sound from the front of the alley startles us, both of us looking toward the direction of the noise. Brass continues to walk toward us, looking into his notepad as he does. He begins to speak, but I don't hear what he says.

I think of Sara. I'm starting to wish I had said yes to her dinner invitation offered what seems a lifetime ago.

* * *

I'm at Sara's apartment. She's called me, near the verge of tears. I don't ask questions, a first for me. Instead, I drive to her place as fast as I can, my breathing harried when I knock on her door. When she answers the door, she makes no pretense to hide her vulnerability, instead moving instinctively toward me. Sara's arms are now wrapped about my waist, her tear-streaked face buried into my chest. I stand motionless for a moment, unsure about what I'm supposed to do. My arms tentatively work their way around Sara's petite body, my hands trembling as they eventually find the small of Sara's back and the back of her head. I slowly pull her close to me, softly pressing my lips to the top of her hair, trying to assuage her as best I can. It's at this moment I realize that we're still in the hallway, exposed to the world. So, I slowly walk inside the apartment, Sara still in my arms. I manage to close the door with my foot, never letting go of Sara in the process.

I finally speak, asking her about the meaning of her tears. Sara looks up at me, her gaze rending my heart in twain. She sobs between words, trying to explain as best she can. Fortunately for her, I'm able to decipher her broken speak. She tells me everything. About her family. About her foster family. About her brother. It all comes pouring out of her, her latest case with a foster family pushing her over the edge. She continues to speak, but at this point, I'm no longer listening with my ears. My hands move purposefully to either side of her face, gently cupping her beautiful countenance. I proceed slowly, giving her every opportunity in the world to pull away.

However, she never does. Instead, she leans into me, her eyes closing slowly as our lips meet. I can feel the hairs stand on the back of my neck, my forearms, as the world goes dark around me. Her lips open slightly, inviting me into a place where few have been. I feel my heart rate begin to quicken as I deepen our kiss, her moans urging me on.

I think of Sara. It's all I care about at the moment.

* * *

The sunlight peeks through the bedroom blinds, enhancing the small sheen of sweat currently residing on Sara's naked back, the sheet covering the lower portion of her immaculate body. I sit near the window, my boxers once again on my person, as I gaze over the woman currently sleeping. Her breathing relaxes me, her face peaceful and content. I start to ponder about what's just happened; trying to figure out as best I can what our relationship is now.

Was this just a one-time thing? Did she just need me for release? Did we both need this? Or is this something more, something serious? I sigh softly, pushing the thought away. I have no idea what this is. It's been years since I've been in a situation like this. Hell, I'm surprised that I actually remembered what to do when the time was upon us. But still, I can't hide the smile emerging on my lips as I think about the hours prior to now.

I haven't felt this way about anyone in a long time. And, I'm suddenly saddened at the thought because I realize I've wasted years of my life by keeping Sara at arm's length. And, why? Because it wasn't in the best interest for us professionally? I shake my head slightly, cursing myself for ever thinking the thought. I find myself a hypocrite, reminding myself that I was this close to pursuing a relationship with Sofia. But, the thought keeps on nagging at me. Why Sofia and not Sara? I was almost willing to let Sofia in when I never allowed Sara the luxury. So, the question remains. Why?

Sara stirs from her slumber, my attention no longer on the question. She slowly turns over onto her back, a small yawn escaping her mouth as her eyes blink rapidly to rid them of the remaining remnants of sleep. Her arm instinctively reaches for where I once was, discovering my absence. She begins to scan her surroundings, her gaze eventually falling onto mine as we share a smile. She pushes the sheet away from her body, her legs swinging to the side of the bed. She pads her way toward me, naked in all her glory. She smiles meekly as she straddles my lap.

However, the intention isn't sexual. Far from it. Instead, she presses her body against mine; her nude chest against my own, as her head finds respite on my shoulder. She speaks softly, her words tender, filled with sincerity. She asks me whether we've made a mistake, telling me all I need to know. She doesn't know what this is also. I smile at my beautiful Sara, my palm tenderly moving up and down the middle of her back. I finally speak, asking her if she's sorry about what's happened. I can feel her sigh against my chest as she speaks. She answers truthfully. She's not sure.

At that moment, I finally realize the answer to my earlier question. Why I was willing to let Sofia in but not Sara. It's because with Sofia, everything would be new, undiscovered. This isn't the case with Sara though. Even though this is our first time being physical, we've always been intimate. Always been able to see what the other felt, even though we refused to acknowledge…because I refused to acknowledge it. Sara's been nothing but honest with me in the past about her feelings. Unfortunately, because of my past mistakes, she's no longer able to risk her heart. So, I do the only thing I can. I make reparations.

I whisper against her ear the feelings I've kept hidden from her for so many years, finding myself becoming more confident with each revelation. I risk my heart once more, expecting the same result as when I first did this back in my youth. However, Sara surprises me as her head moves from my shoulder, her eyes peering into my soul. She doesn't reject me. She doesn't push me away. Instead, she smiles as a hand lazily runs though my disheveled hair. She leans toward me, her lips lovingly caressing my cheek before looking at me again. I return her smile, placing a kiss in the hollow of her neck, Sara giggling softly at the sensation.

I think of Sara. I've never been happier.

* * *

Sara's past comes back to haunt her in the most unlikely of places. I turn the corner when I see Ecklie standing in front of my office. I greet him cordially even though I don't mean it. However, Ecklie strays from our usual game, instead holding out a file. I ask him what this is all about. He motions me into my office. I relent, following Ecklie into my office. As we seat ourselves, he tosses the file onto my desk. He tells me to peruse the contents, a smug look on his face.

I see Sara's name on the tab, cautiously opening the manila folder. Upon reading the words in front of me, I look up at Ecklie, somewhat perplexed. He shrugs his shoulders, that sickly smirk still on his lips as he speaks. Turns out Sara's used false information when she applied for employment at CSI. It finally dawns on me the reason for said misdirection. Of course she'd lie. Because the truth about her past would undoubtedly damn her. And, seeing Ecklie sitting across from me, I realize that it has.

I try my best to make less of the situation than it really is, but Ecklie sees through my ruse. He rises from his chair, ordering me to release Sara from her current duties. I follow him out into the hall, still trying to remedy the situation. Surely, her work speaks towards her credibility in this field. More so than a few misused words written on a contract inked so many years ago. Unfortunately, Ecklie does not seem to follow my reasoning, instead placing more merit in the facts. Sara's misrepresented herself, and now she has to pay the consequences, even if they aren't hers to pay in the first place.

We've managed to gather a crowd as we continue down the hallways, our voices still civil but bordering on profane. I'm practically pleading with Ecklie at this point, not entirely noticing until Ecklie chuckles at me. Then I hear the words 'whore' and 'Sara' uttered in the same sentence, and my fist finds its way against his face. Warrick and Nick are trying to restrain me at this point, Ecklie nursing a bloodied nose. He smiles arrogantly at me, realizing that he's found my Achilles'.

I think of Sara. My anger is justified.

* * *

I'm given a choice by Ecklie. Either resign my position as nightshift supervisor or Sara has to be let go. I ask him, a hint of hostility tinting my words, who'll be replacing me if I decide to choose the former instead of the latter. He smirks at me, my hands balling up tightly, as he answers me. He utters a name. Sofia.

I shake my head slightly, my brow furrowed. Of course it's Sofia. Who else would it be? He'd wanted her to be head of dayshift. Why stop there when nightshift's also an option? Instead of one of his subordinates heading up the CSIs, he can now have two, insuring that his will be imposed during both shifts. Have to hand it to the man, he knows how to play the game. Then again, it was a game I never much cared for in the first place.

Ecklie places the letter on my desk before walking out. Although I never see his face, I know he's still smiling as he leaves, thinking he's gotten the best of me. I look at the resignation letter with my name on it. All that's left is my John Hancock. I won't be a supervisor anymore, but I'll still be a CSI. However, if I do sign the letter, there's no chance I'll ever be promoted again. Instead, I'll have to be content with only the job to appease me.

I manage a small smile, realizing that I'm incorrect. I still have Sara. I'll no longer be her superior, but that was just an old crutch to keep her away from my heart once upon a time. Now, we'll just be two coworkers who are secretly having an intimate relationship. That is, until she becomes my supervisor. I smile at the thought as I retrieve a pen from my desk drawer. There are worse things.

I think of Sara. The rest is easy.

* * *

My hand idly caresses Sara's swollen stomach, feeling the life inside gently stirring. Sara leans against my chest, her nose in the letter addressed to me. She reads intently in silence as I continue to marvel at the undulations underneath my palm. We made this, in a moment of passion. In a moment of love. It wasn't planned, but we don't regret the outcome. Sure, we're terrified, but at the same time, we're excited for what the future holds.

Sara finishes reading the letter, placing it on the bed before speaking. She asks me if I'm sure about what I'm doing. I answer with a kiss against the top of her head, my words reassuring. Her hand moves slowly over mine, holding it still against her stomach. In that moment, I know I'm making the right choice. I've done all I can at CSI. I've taken care of them as best as I could. It's time to look after the life residing inside Sara now. To look after Sara.

I've always meant to teach once my time at the lab was over. It's better pay and better hours. Besides, Sara will continue to be my link into that world. But, for now, I'm content with where I currently am, having Sara in my arms. Sara shifts in my grasp, tilting her head up at me. She smiles as I place a small kiss against her lips. I'm about to pull away when her hand finds the back of my neck, pulling me deeper into our kiss.

I think of Sara. I really should get her a ring.

_Fin_


End file.
